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My mood, as well as my self-image on Saturday night is directly linked to how well and how much I play soccer on Saturday afternoons. Normally, after a brutal defeat playing keeper, I feel like shit ("what's in the box?" "It's a surprise." *opens box* "What a surprise!"). Today, I played up, scored once (in the 5 years+ that I've played, this is my first goal (*notices a bit of a trend* I only scored once in the five years that I played hockey as a young'un as well.), and generally kicked ass. Nevermind that we held the first lead we've ever had this season for only five minutes, it was a really well-played game on our behalf. *Still thinking about my (abnormally) good mood* Maybe it was someone (deity of some sort?) balancing things out after the crappy (really crappy) afternoon I had. Maybe two hours before my game, I shattered a wine glass (MOM: Be careful with that. A lot of them have been breaking lately. ME: No problem. *twenty-five minutes later* ME: You know that glass that you told me not to break?), forgot to check noodles I was cooking and they boiled to a slow (forty-five minute), overcooked death. ===== interrupted |